


Beginnings

by MistressKat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Chuck gets on well with everyone.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [planetkiller](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=planetkiller).



> Prompt: Chocolate.

Chuck gets on well with everyone. As long as he remembers, he’s been_ that nice young man_ or _a good guy _or _a fine employee with excellent people skills_. He’s never resented any of those labels or the ones that got him on Atlantis (_well-balanced, adaptable, high emotional IQ_) and he’s never known anyone else to have a problem with them either.

So when he makes room for Dr. Kavanagh who’s come to perform maintenance on the gate console, it’s a bit of a shock when the other man turns to him with a contemptuous sneer. “Save your Mr. Nice Guy routine for someone who cares,” he says and in his mouth the word _nice_ sounds like an insult.

Dr. Kavanagh doesn’t get on with _anyone_, nor does he seem to want to. If Chuck was a different sort of man, he would leave it at that and let the snappy scientists lie in peace or whatever the proverb of the week on Atlantis was.

However, the incident keeps bothering him. So much so, that he finds himself watching the other man; warily at first, but then with growing interest. And once he starts noticing he can’t stop, and the things he notices… well, they sort of accumulate until it feels like he’s full of secret knowledge and little snapshots of Dr. Kavanagh; his sweet tooth, his hands with their long narrow fingers dancing over a keyboard or under a console, how young he looks without his glasses, softer somehow.

Chuck starts saying hello every time he sees Dr. Kavanagh. It takes two weeks of _how are yous_ until he gets more than a quick flicker of eyes in response. But then one evening they are both late for dinner, rounding the corner to the mess hall literally on each other’s heels.

Chuck is first in their line of two. There is only one piece of chocolate cake left and, well, it’s been a tiring day and he really wants it. But he kind of wants to see Dr. Kavanagh smile even more.

Chuck passes the cake by, opting for some furry Athosian fruit instead and finding an empty table. He watches Kavanagh pick up the slice and then hesitate, the tray held close to his chest. Finally he moves over to Chuck’s table.

“This seat free?” he asks, slowly, like he fully expects Chuck to tell him no, he would prefer the company of his invisible friends, thanks all the same.

“Yep,” Chuck says, nudging the chair out with his foot. “Sit down, Doc. How are you tonight?”

Kavanagh settles, fiddling with his napkin and placing it neatly in his lap. “I’m… I’m fine,” he says, looking up. It’s not quite a smile on his face, but it’s _something_. It’s a start. “How are you?”


End file.
